


I have her light to guide me through the darkness

by donnawanderedoff



Category: The 100 (TV), kabby - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, COL as a form of the Illuminati, COL with a twist, Crimes & Criminals, Drama, Drama & Romance, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Marcus as crime novel writer, Marcus as retired detective, Murder, Organized Crime, Other, Secret Organizations, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Violence, netwerkt of corruption
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-02-23 16:23:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13193934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donnawanderedoff/pseuds/donnawanderedoff
Summary: When Marcus Kane, retired detective turned crime novel writer, catches a glimpse of Abby Griffin at a charity event, he's immediately smitten. Thanks to some match making daughters their paths cross again. As they slowly start to get to know each other, Marcus starts to research his latest novel about the ancient movement The City of Light. What started as research into a movement deemed a myth, quickly esclates in Marcus stumbling upon an underground network of corruption, assasinations and drugs. Will he be able to keep those he cares for, especially his blossoming affection for Abby, safe? And what role does his old partner who was presumed death, Jaha, play in all of this?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am with another multi-chapter story, will I ever learn? I think not ^^ I do hope you’ll enjoy reading it

“Ladies and gentlemen I’d like to welcome you all to our annual charity event. We, from the People Against Cancer Association, are all very grateful that you all came here on a Friday evening. I’m also certain that you’ve all managed to find the numerous appetisers and drinks which are being brought around,” Mrs. Cartwig, the head of the association, states while addressing everyone in the ballroom. She briefly stops with a smile in order to acknowledge the cheers from the audience and the lifting of their glasses.

“Now, while I do hope you all will have a wonderful evening tonight, let’s not forget the main purpose of tonight’s event, namely raising money to fight cancer. Our association has been active for a number of years now, and we’ve helped both with financing further research in ways we can prevent several cancer types, as in offering support to those affected by a form of the disease. Thanks to everyone’s generosity of last year we were able to step in and pay the hospital bills for numerous of members. So I would like to thank you all from the bottom of my heart and I do hope that tonight we’ll be able to match or even surpass last year’s numbers. But even though I could talk for hours about the dire need to keep raising money for this cause, I won’t,” Mrs. Cartwig quips, eliciting some chuckles from everyone.

“Like every year we invite a special guest and tonight we have none other than three times New York Times bestselling crime novel author, Marcus Kane,” she continues and a loud wave of female cheers resonates through the air, causing Marcus to awkwardly shift in his chair on which he’s seated at the back of the stage.

“Mr. Kane has been gracious enough to clear his busy schedule for us,  for which I - and I’m sure the rest you guys – are very grateful. Not only will Mr. Kane read an excerpt from his latest novel,  _The Exodus Charter,_ he’ll also be available for autographs, pictures, and a chat. But I won’t keep you all in suspense any longer, so please let me all hear a big round of applause for Marcus Kane,” Mrs. Cartwig ends her speech before stepping aside and starting to clap.

Taking a deep breath, Marcus rises from his seat while nervously straightening his tie. He tries to give the audience an  _as genuine as possible_  smile, but he can’t help but grimace at the numerous of flashes going off, causing spots to appear in front of him.

_Honestly, are flashes even supposed be this bright? Because that seems like a serious hazard to your eyesight._

This part of being a well-liked and popular author, of people continuously taking pictures, of being invited to events like this, of people sometimes – mostly women with the odd man thrown into the mix – yelling his name or even fainting, was a part Marcus would never be entirely comfortable with. He did, wholeheartedly, love writing books and sharing said books with a broader audience, but the whole part of dealing with the press – and to a certain degree - even fans was something he rather let his agent handle. And for the most part, she did, which was honestly one of the main reasons why he loved working with the head of Triku publishing. Indra was a straightforward woman who didn’t believe in over-elaborate promotional stuff. Different from other publishing firms, Triku still believed in the more old-fashioned way of promoting books. No crazy social media activities, which suited him just fine since it took Octavia two hours before he understood how to use twitter. And he still doesn’t know how to use half of its applications.

After taking place behind the microphone, Marcus places a copy of his book on the stand before taking the word and thanking the woman responsible for the event.

“Thank you so much for that introduction Mrs. Cartwig, it’s most certainly an honor to be here. What you and your Association are doing is simply amazing and not to mention a worthy cause. I’d also like to thank each and every one of you for attending tonight’s event,” Marcus says, briefly halting until the applause has died down.

“Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I’d ever be here, standing in front of hundreds of people and reading a paragraph from one of the books I’ve written,” he continues with a chuckle.

“When I got injured during a police case five years ago and was confined to a hospital bed for several weeks, I passed the time scribbling down short stories in little notepads, yes you heard that right, pads _plural_. I must have gone through at least four notepads during my stay - much to my daughter’s chagrin, I might add - since she was the one who had to go the store to buy them.  But still, I couldn’t have imagined that those scribbles would eventually turn into my first novel,  _The Arkadia Files._ Nor could I have predicted its success, but yet here we are, several years and books later and you guys still aren’t tired of me,” he jests, eliciting laughter from the rest of the room.

“This  - me standing on a stage and talking to all of you - still feels a bit surreal to me. Words cannot fully express how grateful I am and how much I appreciate the tremendous amount of support I’ve gotten throughout the years. But -,” Marcus briefly halts, “I’m sure none of you have come to hear me get all sentimental - another round of laughter fills the room - so let’s start with what everyone really came for, me reading an excerpt from my book,  _The Exodus Charter,_ ” he finishes before taking his reading glasses out of his jacket pocket and putting them on. He then opens his book and starts to read;

 

> Chapter one. Today had not been a good day. As Jack walked through the rainy streets of New York – his hair soaked and his jacket clinging to his body – while desperately in search for a cab, he’d be the first to confirm just how horrible today had been. And it was only one in the afternoon. On this particular Friday, his mind was obsessed with a terrible reality. He had just borne witness to a man being sentenced to death. A man Jack had never met, but still knew a great deal about. For example, Jack knew that the man was 33-years old, had a wife and two small children, lived and worked in a small town in New England hundreds of miles away and that the man had absolutely no idea about Jack’s existence. Nor did he know about the interest the Justice Department had in him. Or about the decision that Department had made mere minutes earlier.
> 
> His memory kept returning to the large conference room with the huge rectangular table, at which he had sat down while being surrounded by men who had all voted and decided the poor man’s sentence. Of course, Jack had objected strenuously. How could he not? It was the least he could do for the man he’d never met, nor would ever meet. For the man who was being maneuvered with such precision into such an untenable position. Whose fate had been decided by a bunch of men in suits without any consideration for him or his family. A shudder travels through him at the memory of how the decision had been made. No outing of any emotion, just coolness. If Jack hadn’t known any better, the men could have made a business deal, that’s how pragmatic they’d been. Instead, they had condemned a man to death for no other reason than convenience. Raising his hand for the umpteenth time, luck is finally on his side because in a matter of seconds a cab has pulled over.
> 
> Jack quickly dashed into the car, barely glancing at the driver before muttering his address.  Just as he ran a hand through his drenched hair, the sound of all of the doors being locked capture his attention. Eyes wide, Jack can’t do anything but watch how the engine roars to life as the cab drives off. A feeling of dread comes over him when the car goes in the exact opposite direction of his apartment.
> 
> “Hey, what are you doing? You’re going in the wrong direction!” he cries out while frantically trying to open the doors, but to no avail.
> 
> “Why don’t you relax Mr. Peeters? We still have quite the ride in front of us,” the driver calmly states.
> 
> “How do you know me? Why are you doing this?” Jack presses while trying to find a way to escape the cab.
> 
> “Please Mr. Peeters, I’ve been told you’re a clever man. Don’t tell me that you don’t know what’s going on. And please, stop embarrassing yourself, you won’t find an escape.”
> 
> With his heart racing and palms sweating, Jack tries to control his breathing. “The firm sent you? I don’t understand. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
> 
> “I never insinuated you did anything wrong. You have been very valuable in the past. There has been an – incident for lack of a better word – and the firm is in need of your expertise.”
> 
> “My – my expertise? I fail to see how I could be of any value. I’m a mere historian,” Jack stammers.
> 
> “A historian with connections to the Justice Department. And that’s exactly why the firm needs you. What do you know about the  _Exodus Charter?_ ”
> 
> His heart skips a beat.  _No, this could not be._ “That’s a myth. There’s no evidence that the exodus actually exists.”
> 
> The driver chuckles, “Oh, you’re wrong Mr. Peeters. So very, very wrong.”

As the last word slips from between his lips, Marcus closes the book before slipping his glasses back into his jacket pocket as the room fills with applause.

“Thank you. You’re all too kind. As Mrs. Cartwig announced earlier, I’ll be available all night for pictures and autographs. I do hope you all will have an enjoyable evening and please, don’t forget to make a donation. Thank you again,” he ends with a smile, giving the audience a grateful nod before stepping off the stage.

Indra is already waiting for him and wordlessly hands him a glass of whiskey.

“You owe me big time,” Marcus mutters before taking a large gulp and embracing the slight burn of the drink.

His agent takes a sip of her drink as well. “There will be a bottle of Highland Park waiting for you.”

Raising his glass in acknowledgment, Marcus lets his gaze wander across the room, taking in all of the people drinking, eating, having a great time. The fact that many of them came out just to see  _him_ blows his mind.

Who could have thought that Octavia’s decision to steal one of his notepads and give it to Gaia – one of her classmates, whose mother owned a publishing house -would lead to this?

It doesn’t take long before a group of women make their way over. They’re all giggling, glasses in hand, and their cheeks are flushed. They’re probably already slightly tipsy.

_How wonderful!_

Clenching his jaw, Marcus drains his glass. “Make that two bottles,” he mutters before plastering a smile on his face just as the women come to a halt.

“Naturally. Now if you’ll excuse me,” Indra states, a small smirk playing on her lips as she makes her retreat.

_Traitor._

As the women circle him and they all start to introduce themselves while trying to get as close as possible, Marcus wishes two things; one, that his glass wasn’t empty and two, that he preferred being on bed rest after getting shot than surrounded by women.

* * *

 

_Flashback 5 years ago – a private room in Boston’s General Hospital_

Wincing when the movement tugs at his stitches, Marcus slowly but surely settles into an upright position in his bed. Merely three days after being admitted to the hospital and two major surgeries, he was already bored. There was only so much daytime television a person could watch while staying sane. Thankfully Octavia had packed his notepad while dropping off some clothes, his glasses, and other personal stuff. And – as he picks the notepad up from the bedside table and browses through it – he’s already running out of empty pages.

After leafing through the little book he quickly finds the page where he stopped earlier, so Marcus takes his pen and continues;

 

> Utter darkness.
> 
> When Marie regains consciousness and slowly opens her eyes, that’s the first thing she becomes aware of. The second – and more unfortunate - thing is that she’s chained to a chair in what she assumes – by the lack of windows - to be a basement. After trying to, unsuccessfully, free her hands, she slumps back against the chair.  _Dammit._
> 
> This is not how Marie had expected her investigation to go. She could already imagine the taunts and  _I told you so’s_ from the rest of the team when she would eventually find a way to talk herself out of this precarious situation.
> 
> “…ie….rie….Marie??”
> 
> Static and a distorted voice resonates through the room. Confused, Marie tries to find the source of the noise and it doesn’t take long before she locates it somewhere to her right.
> 
> _Her earpiece. Thank fuck._
> 
> It must have fallen out when the O’Connell brothers had dragged her into the basement. Realizing that shouting for her position on the chair won’t help, Marie places her feet firmly on the ground before pushing the chair towards her right. With her legs tied to the chair, it’s a slow process, but she does eventually end up closer to where she thinks her earpiece is.
> 
> “Will? Will, can you hear me?” she calls out, but not too loud, because for all she knows the brothers are still close by.

The sound of the door of his room opening makes Marcus glance up and a smile appears on his face when Octavia walks in.

She promptly makes her way over, gives him a kiss on the cheek before sitting down on a chair next to the bed.

“Hi, dad.”

“Hi, sweetheart. How was school?”

Octavia shrugs, “It was okay,” she replies, but from the tone of her voice he can tell there’s something she isn’t telling him.

“Hey, what’s wrong? You know you can tell me everything right?” Marcus softly asks while lifting her chin so he can catch his daughter’s gaze.

When he notices the tears, he feels his heart break - Octavia is not the type of girl who cries easily.

“At school, there was a boy who -”  she starts, her voice trembling as she tries her best not to burst out in tears, “He said he saw you on the news and that you could have died. Is that true daddy? Did you almost die?” She whispers as she looks at him with wide and scared eyes,

“Oh Octavia, come here,” Marcus murmurs while gently pulling her onto the bed. The girl willingly follows, wrapping her arms around his waist -  careful of his injuries and leaning against his chest.

“I won’t lie to you sweetheart, my injuries were serious,” he starts and a whimper escapes his daughter’s lips, “but-” he continues while stroking her hair, trying to comfort her, “I’m alright now. I just need to rest for a while and then I’ll be as good as before.”

“You promise?”                                                

“I do. I promise I’ll be okay,” he reassures her with a kiss on her hair.

“But what about the next time you come across a bad guy? What if you’re not that lucky then? I don’t want you to die. You can’t leave me or Bellamy. We need you dad!” Octavia croaks out, her grip slightly tightening.

“And I am going to do everything I can to stay with you guys as long as possible,” Marcus pledges, “Which is why I have an offer for you.”

“What kind of offer?” Octavia asks while lifting her head from its position on his chest, before sitting upright on the bed.

“Well, how would you feel if I didn’t’ return to the force? Or at least not as a detective. I could always go back as a consultant or get another job,” he proposes.

His daughter’s eyes grow wide. “Really? You would do that? But you love being a policeman dad. Ever since you were a little boy you’ve wanted to become a policeman, grandmother has said so.”

“And you’re right, I do love being a detective, but getting injured has proven once more how dangerous my job is. You and your brother are the most important people in my life and –”

“And grandmother,” Octavia interrupts him, eliciting a chuckle from him.

“And grandmother,” Marcus continues, “So if me getting another job would make you feel better, then I’ll do that.”

“You would really do that for me?”

“Of course I would. I love you, Octavia.”

In response she flings her arms around his neck, momentarily forgetting his injuries. When he can’t suppress a soft gasp of pain, Octavia immediately apologises, but Marcus merely lifts his arms and returns the embrace.

“So does this means that you approve?” He smirks.

The girl laughs, “I do. But what are you going to do now?” she asks while breaking the hug and leaning back.

“I don’t know. Perhaps I’ll become a writer,” Marcus jokes while nodding towards his notepad.

* * *

  _Present day – People Against Cancer Association event_

Marcus has finally managed to extract himself from the group of women after numerous of pictures and dinner invitations. His agent is still nowhere to be found.  _Figures._

When he gets to the bar, he immediately orders another whiskey before leaning back and letting his gaze once more flicker across the room. He hasn’t seen his daughter yet and she was supposed to be here around nine. Not that he was worried, he trusted her boyfriend, Lincoln, completely. Not only because the young man would never get Octavia into trouble, but also because otherwise, Lincoln would have to deal with an angry Indra. And that woman even scared Marcus. So whatever reason his daughter has for being late, Marcus is positive it’s nothing bad.

He has just taken a sip from his whiskey when someone takes a seat to his right.

“Hello Marcus,” a female voice declares and Marcus inwardly winces.

_Of all of the women in the room, of course it had to be her sitting down next to him._

Taking another sip – in order to brace himself – Marcus puts on a fake smile and turns towards the woman. “Good evening, Miss Sydney.”

The woman rolls her eyes while laying a hand on his arm, “After all this time, you’re still so formal. How many times have I told you to call me Diana?” She comments, her voice taking on a flirty tone as she leans closer, causing her breasts to not so subtlety rub against his arm.

Marcus barely manages to suppress a cough when a strong whiff of her perfume overwhelmed his senses.

_Did she bathe in it? Or spray the entire bottle on her?_

 “Oh, but I insist Miss Sydney,” he replies, while carefully leaning a bit backward, creating some distance while his eyes roam the room, frantically looking for someone to save him.

Thankfully, he quickly spots his daughter who’s making her way over.

“Octavia hi,” he exclaims, perhaps a bit louder than he normally would have, but he knows that Diana isn’t a fan of teenagers – or children in general – and he does not feel terrible for using his daughter to scare the woman away.

“Hi dad,” Octavia replies, looking slightly confused as to why she’s getting such an enthusiastic greeting. That is until she recognises the woman sitting next to him.  _Ah._

 _“_ Evening Miss Sydney,” the girl greets the older woman, feeling a sense of success when Diana winces.

“Evening Miss Kane. Uhm, if you’ll excuse me Marcus, I’ve just spotted a good friend of mine so-” Diana stammers before hastily rising from the stool and leaving father and daughter behind.

“Excellent timing,” he states while observing how Octavia sits down next to him.

Just when Marcus wants to ask where Lincoln is, the sound of female laughter catches his attention. Turning his head towards the source, he finds Miss Cartwig talking to another woman. The woman has her back turned to him, so all he can see is the back of her emerald evening gown and her luscious brown curls of which some are gathered in an up-do while others are cascading down her back. He watches almost mesmerised how the woman slightly throws her head back when she laughs at something Miss Cartwig says.

_Who is she? And how come he hasn’t seen her before?_

“Dad?”

“Dad?”

“Hey dad, are you alright?” Octavia presses while gently tugging on his sleeve, and efficiently capturing his attention.

“Hmm?”

The girl rolls her eyes at the dazed expression on her father’s face. “I asked if you were alright. I’ve been trying to capture your attention for a couple of minutes now. But I guess that staring at a strange woman’s back is more important than listening to your own daughter,” she teases.

At the realisation that he had been caught, Marcus can feel his cheeks redden. Clearing his throat, he gives her a confused look. “I wasn’t staring at anyone.”

That reply earns him a smirk.

“You know, for a retired detective, you’re a really lousy liar.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he denies.

“Oh? So you weren’t checking out the woman in blue dress?”

“The dress is green –” he retorts before he can stop himself. And he immediately wants to hit himself when the smirk on Octavia’s face grows.

_Damn._

“Not a word.”

His daughter raises her hands in mock surrender. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she states and Marcus utters a non-committal but disbelieving noise.

“But - ” she continues after a second and he can’t help but groan.

_Of course she wasn’t going to let it go. He should know better, she was his daughter after all._

 “I don’t see why you can’t go over and talk to her.”

“And say what? Hi, my name is Marcus Kane and my daughter thought I should introduce myself because I kept staring at you from across the room like some creep?”

Octavia chuckles, “Well, no. But I’m sure you’ll figure something out. What do you usually say?” she presses, unwilling to let him get away so easily.

“What do I usually say when?” Marcus counters, looking and sounding confused.

“When you talk to women.”

“Octavia – in all of the years you’ve known me when have I  _ever_ started a conversation with a woman? Or when has it ever ended well?”

 “Yeah, okay point taken, but you can’t deny that you’re popular with women. I mean, even some of my classmates, not to mention several teachers, have a crush on you,” his daughter declares with a slightly disturbed look on her face.

“They do? But you guys are seventeen!” Marcus exclaims while sounding genuinely dumbfounded.

Octavia shrugs, “They obviously don’t mind. Apparently, you've got great hair. And they do seem to have a thing for your beard as well."   

“Anyhow –” she continues when her father keeps staring at her as if she had just proclaimed that she can fly, “You can always just introduce yourself and ask how long she’s been a member of the association. Or something like that. It’s not that difficult dad. Trust me.”

“Maybe,” he softly replies. He still can’t believe that his daughter, _his teenage daughter_ ,  is giving  _him_  dating advice.

As Marcus returns his gaze to the place where both women had been conversing, he feels a stab of disappointment when he can’t find them anymore. Noticing her father’s demeanor, Octavia follows his gaze, but before she can say anything Miss Cartwig appears in front of them.

“Mr. Kane, I’d like to thank you once again for joining us this evening. I know that these types of events aren’t really something you like doing,” Miss Cartwig warmly states with a small smile.

“Yes well, for a cause such as this I’m more than happy to make an exception. And please do call me Marcus.”

The woman acknowledges his wish with a nod.

“Oh Miss Cartwig, I was wondering if I could ask you a question,” Octavia poses with a mischievous glint in her eyes. A glint Marcus knows means  _trouble._

“Of course you can.”

“I couldn’t help but notice earlier that you were talking to a woman. She seemed familiar somehow. Would you might telling me her name? She was wearing a dark green dress,” the girl states, keeping her gaze locked on Miss Cartwig and stubbornly ignoring the glare her father is throwing her.

“Oh, that was one of my best friends, Abby Griffin. She’s the head of trauma at Boston’s General Hospital. Both she and the hospital have been longtime supporters and contributors to our Association,” the older woman explains.

“Griffin, you said? Octavia inquires, her smile widening even more after learning this new piece of information. _Wasn’t the surname of Lexa’s new girlfriend Griffin? She should text her later._

“Yes,” Miss Cartwig replies. A small frown appears her face as she notices the looks passing between father and daughter. “Is there any particular reason why you’re inquiring after doctor Griffin?”

“Oh, well you see –” Octavia starts, but Marcus swiftly cuts her off.

“No particular reason. My daughter merely thought that she looked familiar, but she couldn’t remember where she’d seen her,” he quickly explains and Octavia throws him a pout.

“Well perhaps she saw her during a book signing of yours,” Miss Cartwig offers, blissfully missing the glare he’s giving his daughter.

_Hold up, at his book signing?_

_“_ Wait, why would Doctor Griffin be at my book signing?” He hears himself asking and by the two almost identical looks of bemusement, he realises that it was a stupid question to ask. 

Miss Cartwig chuckles, “Ah well, the thing is - and please don’t ever tell her that I was the one who told you this but she’s a big fan of your work. She has all of your books and I honestly believe that she knows them by heart, she has read them so many times. She would have loved to meet you, but unfortunately during our earlier conversation, she got a call from the hospital. Apparently, there was an emergency that needed her presence and expertise.”

“Oh no, I do hope it’s nothing too serious,” Octavia replies.

“I’m sure that it won’t be too bad. But whatever the emergency is, Abby will most definitely be able to handle it. She’s one of the best doctors I know.”

Miss Cartwig and Octavia continue to exchange pleasantries, but Marcus isn’t really following any of it. He’s still processing the information Miss Cartwig had given him about the woman - no Abby Griffin - she’d been talking to.

_She loves my books. A gorgeous doctor loves my books._

“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to excuse me, there are still some people I need to talk to,” the woman apologises. “As much as I love organising these events, they do come with a lot of socializing. I do hope we’ll see each other again before you guys leave.”

“I’m sure we will,” Marcus replies and with a small smile, Miss Cartwig leaves.

“Don’t’ give me that look,” he murmurs while keeping his gaze on the room.

“What look?” Octavia asks, her tone too cheerful to portray genuine innocence.

“That one. The one I know means no good,” Marcus retorts while gesturing towards her. “Why did you look so pleased after learning Doctor Griffin’s name? What are you up to?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” his daughter declares, but he knows better than to be fooled by her.

Just as he opens his mouth to say something, he spots Diana from the corner of his eye, and she’s coming straight towards them.

“I don’t believe a word you just said, but I’ll it slide for now. Let’s go grab some food, shall we? I’m starving. Aren’t you hungry?” Marcus rambles while wrapping an arm around Octavia’s shoulder and guiding her towards the various tables filled with food.

Confused the girl follows, but when she looks back over her shoulder and sees Diana, Octavia barely manages to suppress a smirk.

“The fact that our dear Miss Sydney is coming over has nothing to do with your sudden appetite?”

Marcus doesn’t even dignify that remark with a reply, he simply continues to walk.

“ I can’t believe you’re scared of her dad.”

“Shut up O,” Marcus exclaims, but his daughter merely giggles.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kudos, comments and hits, I am so so happy that you guys seem to like the story. I've had a rough mental week but I wanted to give you guys another chapter. It's a bit shorter than the previous one, but I hope you'll still like it!

_Home, finally!_

With a deep sigh, Abby closes her front door before making her way over to the kitchen where she  drops her bag and patient files on the counter while letting herself fall on the nearest chair. For the first time in over 24 hours, she has the time to simply  _sit._ Not to mention the fact that she hasn’t been home for almost two days. The past couple of days are all a blur of meetings and emergencies. Everything aches. Her back. Her feet.  _Everything._ She loves her job, she truly does, but right now she wouldn’t mind if her pager wouldn’t go off for let’s say a week.

Remembering that her phone’s battery is dead, Abby quickly plugs it in. it. Soon enough, she notices that she has missed a couple of texts from Callie, and a missed call and voicemail message from her daughter. Curious as to why Clarke didn’t simply text, she presses play;

“Hi mom, it’s your favourite daughter here. I’m currently on my way to the gym and I – what? Babe, I’m leaving a message for my mom. Fiiiine – Lexa says hi by the way. Anyway, I was thinking about driving back home for the weekend and I was wondering if you would like to go for a coffee on Saturday? Perhaps do some shopping too? I could stay for dinner as well and leave early on Sunday. Lexa won’t be joining though, ‘cause she has an important game this weekend. But don’t worry, I’ll call you back sometime during the evening, probably after dinner and my final class. Well, that is if Lexa doesn’t kill me with all of her exercises first – auwtsch, why did you punch me, babe? – Okay, we just arrived at the gym. Love you, mom. Talk to you later.”

Abby shakes her head in amusement at her daughter’s message. Glancing at the clock, she contemplates if she still has enough time for a bath before Clarke will call back. But then again, she can always answer the call while she’s still in the bath. Besides, just the thought of soaking in hot water with a glass of wine and a book makes her body cry out with joy. Perhaps she can try out one of those audiobooks Clarke had bought her for her birthday. That way she has to simply lay back and relax.

Already excited at the prospect of having a soak, Abby makes her way towards the fridge before pulling out an open bottle of white wine and pouring herself a glass. In the end she decides to take the entire bottle with her. It’s not like she has to go anywhere tonight. And for once she isn’t on call, so she can relax and enjoy a quiet night in.

After making her way upstairs, Abby’s first stop is the bathroom to let the tub fill with warm water while pouring in her favourite bath oil. Making sure that her glass and bottle are standing close by, she undresses before throwing her dressing gown on. Picking up her phone, Abby swipes through apps as she tries to remember where Clarke had saved all Marcus Kane’s audiobooks.

_Look mom, you simply go to iBooks app – see it’s the one besides your iTunes app - and there you can find all of the books. You simply select one and then you can listen to it, just like a song. You can even pick a particular chapter or listen to the entire book. You can rewind and everything. And the best part; Marcus Kane is the narrator! So now you’ll be able to listen to the story with the actual author as the storyteller, how cool is that?_

Abby still remembers the small party she had for her last birthday. She had invited some people from the hospital, Callie and Clarke had come back from university, bringing her new girlfriend with her. There had been cake, champagne and lots of laughter. Instead of giving her mother a gift, Clarke had taken Abby’s phone hostage for almost an hour before handing it back with a triumphant smile.

She had been confused at first, but then she had spotted Marcus Kane’s name on her phone together the titles of all of his books he had written so far. 

“They are audiobooks,” her daughter had exclaimed, “They’re not just for sale, but you could say I know someone,” she had continued with a dramatic wink. “So now his stories are just a click away.”

She had tried to play it cool, she really had, but there might have been a squeal _or two._ Apparently Clarke had even captured it on her phone with some app called _Snap_ or something, Abby isn’t really sure. Scrolling through the titles, she’s feeling a bit nostalgic so she selects his first novel,  _The Arkadia Files,_ but she doesn’t press play just yet. Not until the bath is completely filled with water and bubbles. Twisting her hair in a loose bun, she sips from her glass of wine while working out some kinks in her neck.

It doesn’t take long before the tub’s filled and a satisfied moan slips from between her lips as she slowly slides into the water. Pressing play, Abby lies back with her glass balancing on the edge of the tub and with her eyes closed she lets Marcus Kane’s voice wash over her. As she listens to him narrating the novel she can’t help but think about how far she has come since the first time she read  _The Arkadia Files._

* * *

_*Four years ago*_

Not even bothering with undressing, only kicking her shoes off, Abby crawls into bed and shuffles until she’s completely beneath the covers. Hugging her husband’s pillow against her chest, she starts to tremble when all of the emotions she had managed to suppress for this past month all hit her at once, making it feel as if she’s suffocating. Her breathing is erratic and she’s taking gulping breaths. Tears are filling her eyes, but still even now, they won’t fall.

Jackson had practically ordered her to go home, even after she had pointed out - multiple times -that  _she_ was head of trauma, not him. But after he and her other interns had all but ganged up against her, she had no choice but to leave. And she’d been doing just  _fine._ She’d been dealing with it just  _fine._ Her work hadn’t suffered. She hadn’t let her emotions control her at the hospital. Everything had been  _fine._

Until……

Until around 10:30 am a 34-year old Caucasian fair-haired male and car accident victim had been brought in and Abby had frozen in the middle of the hallway. Memories of Jake lying on a hospital bed with similar wounds merely weeks ago had flashed through her mind, making her breath catch in her throat and a wave of nausea rolling over her. She had barely managed to sprint to the nearest bathroom before dropping on her knees and puking for what felt like hours.

_She couldn’t do this._

That’s how one of her interns, Murphy, had found her. Curled up in a ball on cold tiles in front of a toilet, her entire body shivering. Even after threatening to make him clean bedpans for weeks if he told Jackson or anyone else, Murphy had gathered her in his arms before dropping her in her office and notifying Jackson about what had happened.

Needless to say that when the young doctor had rushed into her office and ordered her to go home, she for once listened. Not because she wanted to, but because she didn’t have any strength left to fight him.

She had pushed her body beyond its limit and she was now paying the price.

_Just today._

She could fall apart today. She could grant herself this brief break, even if it was for a couple of hours.

It doesn’t take long before her body succumbs to its exhaustion and Abby falls asleep. Over the course of the next hours, she drifts in and out of consciousness, but never fully awakening. She hasn’t had a restful night since Jake’s death. Abby doesn't know how long she has been asleep, but she awakens to the sensation of someone brushing their fingers through her hair.

“Jake?” She murmurs, a sleepy smile playing on her lips, only to freeze when a female gasp fills the room.

It’s then that reality hits her.

_Jake is dead. Jake’s been dead for over a month._

Opening her eyes, Abby finds her daughter lying next to her on the bed, hand frozen on top of her mother’s head with tears in her eyes.

“Clarke. What are you doing here? What time is it?” Abby inquiries while sitting up.

A glance at the clock shows that it’s already 6:45 pm.

_She forgot to pick her daughter up from school._

Tears of shame spring into her eyes.

“I wasn’t there to pick you up from school. I’m sorry Clarke. So sorry. So, so sorry,” she keeps repeating, her voice trembling as she hides her face behind her shaking hands,

 _She’s failing. At her job. At being a mom_.

Clarke can feel her heart break at her mother’s obvious pain.

“Oh mom, it’s okay. I’m not mad. Monty’s mom gave me a ride. Hey, don’t cry. Please, I don’t like seeing you so sad,” she murmurs while shuffling on the bed until she can gather her mother in her arms, rubbing comforting circles on her back.

Abby clings to her daughter as sobs wrack through her body. She doesn’t know how long she keeps crying, but the soft growling of both their stomachs elicits a weak chuckle from her. 

"Have you eaten anything today?" Clarke softly asks while continuing to hold her mother. 

"I had a piece of toast this morning, but nothing since then," she replies as she leans back. "How does pizza in bed sound for dinner?" 

"Like the best idea I've heard all day," her daughter states. 

"It's a dinner date then!" Abby announces before breaking the embrace, but just as she starts to move towards the edge of the bed, Clarke stops her. 

"No mom, why don't you stay in bed a little longer? I'll call the pizzeria," she says before reaching over the edge and pulling a book out of her backpack. 

"Here." 

Accepting the book with a small frown, Abby asks, "What's this?"

"A book," Clarke quips back and only barely manages to duck and avoid getting hit in the face with a pillow. 

"Alright, alright. My English teacher recommended this book and it has been all over the shops in town. It's the first novel of Marcus Kane, a retired detective. It's supposed to be really good and I know that you love a great crime novel and I thought it might cheer you up a little bit." 

At her daughter's thoughtfulness, Abby can feel herself starting to tear up again. After a quick hug, she settles down against the bed rest.

"Okay, I'll be right back." 

"Alright darling," Abby replies while watching Clarke leave the bedroom. 

Picking the book back up, she turns it so she can read the summary. A picture of the author, Marcus Kane, is displayed beneath it and Abby lets her gaze wander over it, taking in his intense eyes, tight smile and slicked back hair. 

“Alright Mr. Kane let’s see if you can take my mind off things and entertain me,” she states before opening the book and reading the first chapter:

 

> _Idiots. The whole lot of them. How dare they accuse her of insubordination?_
> 
> With a huff Marie crumples the letter in her fist before throwing it away, not caring where it lands. She can’t believe they actually suspended her for something so  _stupid._ She had followed protocol. She had knocked on the door, announcing her presence, made sure that the suspect knew she was from the police before going inside. It’s not her fault her partner preferred finishing his goddamn sandwich instead of making an arrest. Should she have waited? Perhaps. But she didn’t want to risk the suspect from slipping between her fingers,  _again._
> 
> Getting up from her chair, Marie makes her way over to the cabinet before pouring herself a generous glass of whiskey.
> 
> “It’s a bit early to start drinking don’t you think?” a familiar voice from behind her calls out.
> 
> As she turns around, Marie watches how Paul her roommate drops his stuff on the nearby table.
> 
> “It’s twelve o’clock somewhere. Besides, I need it,” she states before nodding towards the crumpled up piece of paper lying in the corner of the room.
> 
> A look of understanding appears in his eyes. “So I’m guessing you’re suspended from the force?”
> 
> “Yes, sir,” Marie mocks, “On grounds of insubordination and recklessness. Bunch of hypocrites. We all know that the reason they suspended me was because I’m a 23-year old woman who speaks up when fellow officers make sneering remarks about my appearance or capacities. The fact that I managed to arrest the drug dealer instead of my older and not to mention male partner was just the final straw. Misogynistic douches.”
> 
> “So what are you going to do next?” Paul inquires, watching her take a large gulp of whiskey.
> 
> She shrugs, “Honestly, I haven’t really thought about it. I’m definitely not going back to that precinct that’s for sure. Who knows. I might start working as a private investigator. Be my own boss.”
> 
> “Hmm. Well, if you ever decide that you need an IT expert, let me know,” Paul retorts before gathering his bags and making his way towards his room.
> 
> “I will!” Marie says to his retreating form.
> 
> _Hmm P.I. Jacobs does have a nice ring to it_

Abby is still immersed in the book when Clarke walks back into the bedroom, carrying two large pizza boxes, a bottle of cola and two glasses. 

"Food's here,' she announces, but her mother doesn't seem to hear her and simply continues to read.

Smirking, Clarke tries again, this time louder, "Moooooooom, it's pizza time!!"

At her mother's startled reaction she can't help but chuckle.

"Oh already? That was quick."

Clarke shakes her head, "Mom, it has been over an hour since I left the room."

Abby's eyes grow wide, "Oh."

“So I guess I made a good decision by buying the book huh?” Clarke laughs while settling down on the bed and handing her mother her pizza.

“Yes, you did.”

* * *

 * _Present day*_

 

> Utter darkness.
> 
> When Marie regains consciousness and slowly opens her eyes, that’s the first thing she becomes aware of. The second – and more unfortunate - thing is that she’s chained to a chair in what she assumes – by the lack of windows - to be a basement. After trying to, unsuccessfully, free her hands, she slumps back against the –

_*You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life._

_See that girl, watch that scene, dig in the dancing queen*_

Startled by her ringtone, which cuts through the audiobook, Abby straightens her posture, the water slightly sloshing, but thankfully not flowing over the rim of the bathtub. Seeing her daughter's face on the screen, she answers the call with a small smile. 

“Well hello daughter. I’m happy to hear that you survived Lexa’s training session,” Abby teases, and Clarke’s laughter fills her ear.

“Only barely though. My whole body aches,” she complains.  “So I’m assuming that you listened to my message?”

“I sure did.”

“Great. So are you free?”

“It’ll depend on what time you want to meet up since I do need to go to the hospital in the morning. I’ve got two meetings and my weekly meeting with one of my patients, but I should be free around 1 pm or so.”

“Oh no, 1 pm is great, that way I won’t have to leave too early. I’ll make sure I’ll be waiting for you on one of those benches in front of the hospital,” Clarke states.

“Alright. Any reason why you’ve decided to drop by this weekend?”

“Not particularly. Can’t a girl go shopping with her mother?” her daughter retorts and Abby can just imagine the grin that’s most definitely plastered on her face.

“Sure, she can. But said girl doesn’t usually goes on a five hour drive just to get some coffee or even go shopping,” Abby points out.

“Well, this time she does. Besides, I’ve missed you. I haven’t seen you in months and I know that we face time and skype, but that simply isn’t the same,” Clarke replies.

Abby smiles at her daughter’s reply, but she still can’t help but shake the feeling that there’s something more. There’s something that Clarke’s not telling her. Or perhaps she’s just being paranoid and all Clarke wants to do is have some mother – daughter time. She is exhausted after all.

“You sure there isn’t anything else? You know you can tell me anything right?” Abby can’t help but gently press.

“Yes mom, I know. And I promise there’s nothing. Truly,” Clarke reassures her, sounding genuine,  but something still feels _off._

Shaking her head, Abby decides to leave it alone for now. “Okay then.”

“Well, I’ll see you on Saturday then. I’m going to leave the tub where I’ve been soaking in for the last hour or so since the water is starting to get rather cold.”

“Ooooh, a bath. That sounds so good right now,” Clarke hums, “I wish I could take one, but unfortunately I’m stuck with shared showers.”

Chuckling, Abby brushes away a wet strand of hair, “Well, you’ll be able to take one during the weekend. Just a few more days.”

“Oh true! I’m already looking forward to it. A nice long relaxing bath with some wine, music and a good book. It’s been ages since I’ve done that,” Clarke says, only to frown when her mother giggles.

“What? What’s so funny about me wanting to take bath?”

“Oh, nothing darling. It’s just, that’s exactly what I’m doing,” Abby manages to get out between giggles. “Although I’m not reading, but listening to an audiobook.”

“Haha, well I am your daughter so it’s only natural that we share similar likes. Oh and which audiobook? One of Kane’s?” her daughter teases, amusement clear in her voice.

“Obvioulsy, those are the only ones I have on my phone since I lack the technical knowledge to add more,” Abby replies, her tone slightly self-decrepatory since she’s well aware of how bad she is with technology.

“Ain’t that true. I’m sorry mom but I still can’t believe that you can perform some of the most arduous and delicate of surgeries with such ease, but it took you weeks to learn how to use Facebook,” Clarke laughs before clearing her throat, “Anyway, Kane does have a nice voice don’t you think.”

“Hmm.”

“Like low and kind of gravelly.”

Frowning at the direction the conversation has taken, Abby replies, “I guess so. What are trying to say here Clarke?”

“Oh, nothing. Just that – you know, his voice might help you to _uhm_ relax,” her daughter replies, clearly hinting at _something_ , but what Abby has no idea.

“What do you mean? That his voice could help me calm down?”

Clarke scoffs, “No, what I meant is that it can help you _relax_ relax.”

Abby’s eyes grow wide when she finally gets what Clarke had been hinting at, “Oh you mean...”

“That it can help you masturbating? Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”

At her daughter’s blunt reply, she can feel her cheeks flush from embarrassment.

“Clarke!” she exclaims.

“What? There’s nothing scandalous about masturbation mom. You’ve always taught me to be open about it,” Clarke counters.

“Yes, I know that. But I’m not going to masturbate while listening to a stranger’s voice who’s narrating a crime novel,” Abby huffs.

“Alright, alright,” Clarke tries to calm her down, “No need to yell in my ear like that.”

Taking a deep breath, she still feels rather flushed that Clarke would even go _there._

“I’ll see you on Saturday then?” her daughter asks after a couple of seconds.

“Of course. Give Lexa my love.”

“I will. Bye mom.”

“Bye darling.”

Shaking her head, Abby places her phone on the ground.

_Masturbating to Marcus’s voice. How preposterous._

Although, Abby ponders while taking another sip of wine, Clarke did have a point. He does have a very gravelly voice.

Almost without giving it any thought her free hand starts to slip down her body and beneath the water, only for her to freeze and jank it back.

_What the hell is she doing?_

The wine must have gone to her head. She should get out of the bath and prepare something to eat.

_Damn Clarke for putting this idea into her head._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and/or kudos are much appreciated


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the kudos, hits and comments. I know that I already said it, but it means a lot to me. This chapter will include: sneaky Clarke, an amused Indra, a stammering Marcus and a blushing Abby.
> 
> ENJOY!

Shutting down the engine of her car in the hospital parking lot, Clarke calls her girlfriend, who picks up after the second ring.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite match making blonde,” she states as a way of greeting.

“Aren’t you hilarious,” Clarke retorts.

“Oh I know,” Lexa quips back, “I assume you’re calling to let me know that you’ve arrived at the hospital?”

“Yep! Just parked. Mom should get off in a couple of minutes.”

“Hmm.”

At her girlfriend’s mumbled reply, Clarke frowns.

“What does _hmm_ mean? I thought you approved of my plan? Especially since Octavia helped me and she’s his _daughter_. According to her he couldn’t keep his eyes off my mom and you know how much she loves his books or the way she blushes whenever I tease her about her little _crush_ on him,” she can’t help but mutter, a slight defensive tone creeping into her voice.

“What no babe. It’s not that I don’t approve, not at all. I know how much you love your mother and that you want her to be happy,” Lexa softly replies, her tone both apologetic and soothing. “I’m just a bit worried about your mother’s reaction. I care for her too, but I also know that she really doesn’t like surprises or being pressured or thrown into an unexpected situation. Have you forgotten how annoyed she was when you installed Tinder on her phone and she got a bunch of matches? She didn’t talk to you for _weeks_. And what you’re doing now, getting her to meet Kane without her having the time to process it....I know how much his books have helped her after your father’s death, and even though I do think that having them meet is a great idea, I still think that you should tell her before dragging her into town.” She finishes, worry clear in her voice.

At girlfriend’s obvious concern for her mother, Clarke feels her earlier annoyance melt away. “We both know that if I tell her that Marcus Kane is going to be in the same town as we are, she’ll mutter something about not being properly dressed for him or some other excuse and then Octavia’s pleading to Indra to organise an extra book singing for her dad would have been for nothing.”

“It would be a shame to miss an opportunity to see if Abby will blush when being face to face him,” Lexa concedes after a couple of seconds.

“Exactly!” Clarke enthusiastically exclaims while sitting down on a nearby bench, her mother should be getting of her shift any minute now. She’s happy that her girlfriend is coming around. “We simply have to make it happen and I have to film it! And I know you’re right about her not loving surprises, but this is _Marcus Kane_ we’re talking about. You’ve seen the snap I messaged you! Mom was so engrossed in his book, I could have dropped dead next to her and she wouldn’t have noticed. Not to mention her reaction when I gave her the audiobooks for her birthday. I thought she was either gonna cry, jump up and down like a kid or both,” she finishes with a chuckle.

“I think Abby would have mostly definitely noticed you dropping dead, but I get your point. She was rather engrossed in the book. And his own daughter did help,” Lexa admits.

“Exactly! This is one surprise she won’t hate, trust me,” Clarke promises and she can hear her girlfriend emit a soft sigh. She can already imagine the look of on Lexa’s, face, she’s probably scrunching up her nose, looking absolutely adorable. Not that she would ever admit that to her.  She would get her ass kicked if she did.

“Besides as you said, Octavia got involved as well and she reassured us that her dad was quite taken with my mom.”

“Well, I hope so. Both for her and your sake,” Lexa  comments, “I still can’t believe Indra went along with your guys little plan and managed to convince Kane to do an extra book signing.”

“Really? She’s your aunt and you’re still surprised she got him to do a book signing? Trust me, when Indra says something, you do the thing,” Clarke retorts, images of the stern looking woman she only met twice flashing to her mind.

“Okay, okay, you do have a point. She can be scary,” the brunette chuckles, “Anyway, I just arrived at the venue so I gotta go. Text me how it went.”

“I will babe, kick some ass at your game.”

“I will. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Just as Clarke puts her phone away when she spots a familiar braid walking towards her and with a smile she gets up.

“Hi mom,” she greets the older woman while giving her a hug.

“Hi darling,” Abby whispers, returning the embrace. “So what do you have planned?” She continues after breaking away and letting her gaze wander over her daughter, ensuring herself that she’s okay.

“Well, I thought about doing some shops, there’s this new art store I’ve been wanting to check out. Afterwards we can drop by Sinclair’s for some coffee and cake,” Clarke states while linking their arms.

“Sounds good to me,” Abby agrees with a smile, which her daughter returns.

“Great, I’m parked just around the corner. Or we could walk into town?”

“Walking is fine darling. That way we’ll have more time to catch up. So how are classes? And Lexa?” Abby inquires as they start to walk and Clarke starts to energetically talk about her latest art project and her girlfriend.

* * *

“Explain to me again, _why_ am I doing an extra book signing?” Marcus sighs while getting into the taxi Indra called to take them to the airport, his agent following him in.

“Because even though you dislike it, we do need publicity if we want your books to actually sell. It was either a book signing or an extensive tv interview. If you want I could always call my friend at CNN and tell him you changed your mind,” Indra informs him and a tiny smirk appears of her face at Marcus’ shudder at the prospect of doing a tv interview.

“No thank you, that won’t be necessary,” he tersely replies.

“That’s what I thought. And the owner of the bookstore assured me that there won’t be any press, just your fans and that it’ll be done at 6.”

“Hmm.”

“Besides, who knows who you’ll meet today. Perhaps a certain doctor will drop by,” Indra continues, not breaking eye contact when Marcus glares at her at the mention of Abby Griffin.

Ever since the charity event two weeks ago Octavia kept teasing him and dropping little comments to anyone who’d listen about his fascination with a woman he didn’t even talk to. So he’s used to Abby being brought up, he just didn’t think Indra was the type of person to join in.

“I’m sure she’ll have more important things to do then standing in line to get an autograph,” he comments with a shrug, trying his best to sound casual, as if the possibility of Abby showing up doesn’t make his heart race or make his palms feel clammy.

“Oh I don’t know about that Marcus. From what Octavia told me, the doctor is apparently a big fan of not only your books but _yourself_ as well _._ Not to mention that she missed you at the event,” Indra presses.

“Octavia is over-exaggerating. She knows just as much about doctor Griffin as I do, which is not a lot,” Marcus retorts.

“If only you knew just how much your daughter knows,” his agent mutters under her breath, so quietly he can’t understand anything but before he can open his mouth to ask her about it, the taxi comes to a halt.

They swiftly exit the car and after they’ve gathered their luggage and the driver has been paid, they make their way towards their terminal.

“Trust me Marcus, you won’t regret saying yes to this,” Indra enigmatically announces just as they arrive at customs.

“I sure hope so.”

* * *

Hands filled with bags, both Griffin women exit yet _another_ shop.

“Oh my god, did you see the look on that woman’s face when you corrected her when she stated that your boyfriend would love your dress? For a minute I was afraid she was having a breakdown of sorts,” Abby giggles while hanging onto her daughter’s arm, who’s also laughing.

“She got so red and kept apologising,” Clarke chuckles, “I almost felt bad for her.”

Her mother merely continue to giggle until she notices how crowded the streets all of a sudden are. Small groups of women are all walking in the same direction. “Is it me or is it unusually busy? Where do you think they’re are all going to?” She asks while nodding towards another group of women who pass them.

Her daughter shrugs, “I have no idea. The holidays are getting closer, perhaps they all decided to get some early Christmas shopping done. Or perhaps there’s something to do at the bookstore since they do all seem to be walking towards it.”

“Really?” Abby turns her head and it looks like Clarke’s right. Several women do enter the bookstore while others are excitedly pointing at the store’s window.

“Wanna check out what all the fuss is about? Her daughter proposes even though she doesn’t give her mother the time to reply since she already starts to move into the direction of the store.

Unable to say no, Abby follows along with a smile. As they continue to walk, more and more women enter the bookstore and just as she’s about to say something Clarke suddenly stops.

“Oh my god, mom look!” She cries out, her voice all excited while pointing at posters hanging in the stores. “Isn’t that the writer whose books you love? The retired detective, what’s his name, Kane?”

At the utterance of Kane’s name, a soft gasp escapes Abby’s lips.

_Could it be? Could Marcus Kane actually be just a couple of yards away?_

“What? Are you sure?” She asks while trying to take a closer look at the poster, but they’re still too far away for her to get a decent look.

“Of course I am,” Clarke exclaims while practically dragging her mother across the street before coming to a halt before the windows, where four enormous posters of Marcus Kane are displayed.

A bunch of women are taking selfies with the poster in the background while Abby finds herself  captivated by the author’s intense gaze, even if it’s simply a picture. There’s something about the combination of the beard and the slightly curly hair that brings a certain intensity to his eyes.

“Mom?! Mom?!”

The instant tugging on her sleeve causes Abby to drag her eyes away from the poster and to the sign Clarke’s pointing at.

“Look, mom!”

 

> THIS SATURDAY DECEMBER 2ND
> 
> FROM 2 TILL 6 PM
> 
> BOOK SIGNING WITH MARCUS KANE
> 
> AUTHOR OF NOVELS SUCH AS THE ARKADIA FILES, MURDER IN POLIS, THE EDEN PROJECT AND HIS NEW BESTSELLING NOVEL, THE EXODUS CHARTER.

 

Clarke glances at her watch before letting out a noise of excitement.

“Oh, it’s only 2:30. You could still go in and get his autograph mom!”

The thought of entering the store and finally meeting him, causes her cheeks to flush and her heart to pound in her chest.

“What? Why do I want to do that?” Abby asks, trying to sound casual but by the disbelieving look her daughter’s throwing her, she can tell she’s failing.

“Uhm, maybe because you’re obsessed with his books and this is a one in a life time opportunity? When else are you going to meet him? He’s doing an impromptu book signing, which he normally never does and in _our_ town. What are the odds? This is your chance to finally meet him. Besides I know how disappointed you were that you didn’t have the opportunity to talk to him at the charity event,” Clarke states while trying to get her mother to enter the store.

“You’re right, I was disappointed but even so darling, I’m sure there’s going to be a huge line. And I don’t have a copy of one of his books with me. Besides, I don’t want to spend our only day together queuing for a two minute conversation. Not to mention that I’m hardly properly dressed for meeting anyone,” Abby points out while gesturing towards her hospital slacks.

Clarke simply stares at her with an eyebrow raised. A clear indication that she’s not buying her explanation, nor is she impressed by her mother’s reply.

“Excuses, excuses, excuses,” she mutters while opening the door of the shop and pushing her mother inside.

“Clarke, stop!” Abby hisses under her breath, but before she knows it, she’s standing in line with her daughter standing next to her, a satisfied smirk firmly plastered on her face.

“See. Wasn’t too difficult was it? And looks like you were wrong, the line isn’t that bad,” Clarke mentions, which even though she won’t say it out loud, Abby does agree with. The line of women waiting is significant but she has been in worse ones.

“Even so, what am I supposed to have him sign? Contrast to what you believe, I do not in fact carry a copy of one of his books everywhere I go,” Abby scoffs while crossing her arms, clearly thinking that Clarke won’t have an answer to that, but when the grin on her daughter’s face simply widens, she starts to fear that she has. And that fear is confirmed when Clarke, after letting her gaze scan the store, spots a woman at the back before waving her over.

“Clarke what are you doing?” Abby softly hisses, feeling self-conscious when several women who are also waiting in line, turn around and glance at her.

“Getting you a copy of one of his novels, duh.” The younger girls states as if that’s obvious.

Confused Abby watches how a stern looking and older woman, holding a book, approaches them.

“Indra, hello,” her daughter greets the woman, who returns the greeting with a small nod.

“Clarke.”

“Thank you so much for doing this. I’d like you to meet my mother Abby Griffin. Mom, this is Indra, Lexa’s aunt, the head of _Triku_ publishing and Kane’s agent,” Clarke explains while glancing between both women.

Abby finds herself on the receiving end of a look of appraisal from Indra. From the way the woman is glancing up and down, Abby almost feels as if she’s being checked out. For what she isn’t sure, but still she straightens her back, lifts her chin and meets Indra’s gaze without flinching. She can’t be certain, but Abby thinks she can spot a glimmer of amusement and appreciation in the woman’s eyes, but it only lasts a second.

“You’re Marcus’ agent?” Abby starts, wondering how her daughter could possibly know Indra, but after taking a glance and realising that Clarke is looking oddly nervous, it all starts to make sense. Her daughter’s idea of dropping by this weekend, her insistence of visiting shops where she usually wouldn’t buy anything, her excitement when she spotted the posters even though she has never read one of his books.

“Did you plan this?” She asks, addressing her daughter and Clarke has at least the decency to fidget under her stare.

“Not all of it,” Clarke tries to explain, only to fall silent when she gets _The_ look.

“Oh come on mom.  We both know that you would have never gone to a book signing on your own.”

_Valid point!_

“Hmm, that might be Clarke, but you know how much I dislike surprises. But since we’re already here, it would be foolish to leave,” Abby concedes after a couple of seconds, while deliberately ignoring Clarke’s tiny fist pump of success.

“I apologise that my daughter has managed to drag you into her plan, but it’s nice to meet you Indra,” she continues, addressing the woman while holding out her hand.

Indra doesn’t hesitate to shake it, “Don’t worry about it, I didn’t mind at all. And it’s nice meeting you too. Before I forget, here’s a copy of _The Eden Project._ Your daughter mentioned that its your favorite,” she says while handing over the novel.

“Did she now?” Abby murmurs while glancing at said daughter, wondering what else she had let slip, before accepting the novel.

“Hmm. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better get back to our esteemed author before he flees. He gets a bit overwhelmed by all of this attention,” Indra announces and Abby takes another look at all of the women gathered in the store. They’re from various ages, but they’re all chatting and giggling.

“I can’t say I blame him.”

“Indeed. Well, again nice meeting both of you. Tell Lexa to text me after her game,” the older woman says before turning around and swiftly making her way back towards the back of the store where presumably Marcus is sitting, handing out autographs.

The second Indra has disappeared between the crowd, Abby turns around, arms crossed over her chest, giving Clarke another glare.

To her credit, Clarke meets the glare with a big smile plastered on her face and eyes all innocent.

“You still love me right?”

“Jury’s still out on that one!”

“Mooom, come oooon! You know you still love me,” Clarke whines before hugging her and peppering her face with small kisses, eliciting a small laugh from her mother before she’s shoved aside.

“Alright, alright. I still love you.  But don’t think you’re getting of the hook so easily. You own me the largest latte with the biggest piece of Oreo cake at Sinclair’s. Not to mention that you’re both cooking and cleaning the dishes tonight,” Abby dictates, but Clarke shrugs.

“I’ll do whatever you say mother dear. Your wish is my command, oh wise one!” Comes the teasing reply, earning her another shove and eye-roll from her mother.

“This line better move quickly because these bags are getting heavy,” Abby mutters.

“I’m sure it will and if it doesn’t I’ll be your own personal bag carrier,” Clarke seriously states while taking a small bow,  causing Abby to chuckle.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

* * *

 

Marcus is scribbling down a short message for the woman in front of him - her name’s Anne and she’s a 34-year old mother of two, who reads eight pages of one of his novels every night - when he hears _her_.

It’s the same laughter from the charity event two weeks ago. Indra was right.

_She’s here._

_Abby Griffin is here._

_In the same bookstore._

_At his book signing._

_He’s going to see her face today._

_Up close._

_Breathe Marcus, just keep on breathing. You don’t want to pass out from a lack of oxygen when she appears in front of you, do you? Although she could give you CPR._

“Mr. Kane?”

Anne’s voice snaps him out of what’s becoming a small panic attack.

“Yes Anne?” he replies with a small smile, trying to calm his heartbeat by taking a deep breath.

“Can I have my book back?”

He glances down and notices that he had already finished his short message,

“Oh, of course. I’m so sorry Anne,” he murmurs while closing the book and handing it over.

“No problem. I’m sure that signing all these books gets tiresome after a while. But thank you for taking the time and it was so nice meeting you,” the woman replies with a warm smile.

“You’re welcome and it was nice meeting you too.”

With a final smile, she walks away and a new woman approaches.

“Mr. Kane, hello. I’m sorry, I’m a bit nervous. It’s such an honor to finally meet you,” the young woman - she can’t be older than 20 - standing in front of them is slightly trembling.

Wanting to ease her anxiety, he leans over and whispers, “No need to apologise. I’ll let you on to a little secret, I’m a bit nervous as well.”

The statement has its intended effect because the woman lets out a weak chuckle.

“That’s reassuring to know.”

Marcus offers her a smile, before accepting her book. “So to whom can I dedicate this message?”

* * *

After a small break, Marcus takes place behind the table once more. While waiting for the line of people to start moving again, a beep coming from his pocket catches his attention. Pulling out his phone, he notices that he got a text from Octavia.

**How’s the book signing going? Are you still signing or rather hiding in the toilets again? :)**

He rolls his eyes, of course she’d bring that embarrassing incident up. He only hid _once_ in the toilets and it was years ago, but his daughter still teased him about it. He quickly types a text back.

**Indra chained my leg to my chair so escape is impossible!**

After barely a second, he gets a reply.

**I honestly don’t know if you’re joking or not because that’s definitely something she would do.**

At that he chuckles, before shaking his head and texting back.

**Luckily I’m joking. _This time._ I’ll call you when I’m done.**

After a couple of seconds, Octavia texts back.

**Haha. Well enjoy the rest of signing. You never know who *cough* a certain female doctor *cough* will show up!**

Marcus frowns. What is it with people and hinting that Abby might show up? He’s positive that her job as a doctor will keep her occupied.

**Subtle Octavia. Subtle!**

Just as he presses send, another woman stops in front of his table. He hastily puts his phone away.

“I’m so sorry for that, my daughter likes to che-,”  Marcus starts to say, while accepting the copy of his book and placing it on the table, but as he lifts his eyes and they lock with those of the woman standing before him, he freezes.

_Could this be Abby?_

The hair does look similar, and as he lets his eyes flicker down and he takes in the hospital slacks, his suspicion only grows.

You can call him a romantic fool all you want, but he thinks that she’s the most beautiful woman he has ever laid his eyes on. She’s a rather small woman, with bright brown eyes, that seem to sparkle and her hair’s gathered in a braid.

Unableto form words, Marcus simply continues to stare at her, his mouth slightly open.

“I think you’re supposed to write your name,” the woman states after a couple of seconds.

Marcus blinks and blinks again before clearing his throat. “I’m sorry?”

Abby gestures towards the book that’s lying in front of him, which is still unopened and unsigned.

“In the book, you’re supposed to write your name. I hear that’s how autographs work,” she explains, her eyes twinkling with amusement and her lips curved in a small smile.

“Oh - of course. I’m sorry. I -,” he stammers, inwardly wincing at how much like a fool he’s acting.

_Nice Marcus. Real smooth._

Abby can’t help but giggle at his bashful look on his face. Of all the scenario’s she had in her mind of meeting him, she’d never imagined him blushing and stammering. The word cute flashes through her mind.

At the sound of her laughing his eyes snap back to hers, his gaze intense.

_It has to be her. It simply has to._

But before he says anything, he has to be certain. He has already acted enough like a fool.

“You’re absolutely right,” he says while opening the book, “So to whom can I address the message?”

“Abby. Abby Griffin,” comes the reply and even though he was almost certain that is was her, to have it finally confirmed causes his heart to race and he feels himself staring once more.

When Marcus continues to simply look at her, Abby grows nervous and she catches her lower lip between her teeth, noticing how his gaze briefly flickers towards her mouth.

“Is there something wrong?” She asks when the silence becomes too much.

“Hmm?” Marcus murmurs while removing his eyes from her lips, “No, no. I’m sorry. Nothing’s wrong. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can assure you that I’m usually not so -“

“Awkward?” Abby teases and he feels his lips twitch with a smile of his own.

“That’s putting it rather politely,” he quips back and it earns him another giggle - a sound that’s already becoming one of his favorites.

“The thing is, I have a confession to make,” Marcus whispers with a dramatic raising of his eyebrows.

“Oh? Do tell,” Abby whispers back, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Well, I already met you. Or rather I’ve seen your back. You didn’t know I was looking.”

Now it’s Abby’s turn to raise an eyebrow, and Marcus winces at how creepy that sounded.

“That came out wrong didn’t it? I’m sorry, I can assure you that it’s was an accident and completely innocent. I saw you talking to Miss Cartwig at the charity event two weeks ago and you had your back turned to me,” he hastily explains, inwardly praying that he hasn’t messed up too bad.

“That does sound less creepy,” Abby admits with a broad smile.

“I’m glad,” he replies, “I do hope you managed to solve the emergency.”

She frowns, “How do you know about that?”

“Miss Cartwig briefly mentioned it when we spoke after you’d left,” he explains.

“Oh, as a matter of fact, I did. One of my patients, Raven, she was in a serious car accident three months ago and as a result she needs a lot of physical therapy and has chronic pain. That night she pushed herself too far during her appointment with her physi-“ Abby abruptly stops in the midst of her explanation, her cheeks redden. “I’m sorry, I was rambling wasn’t I? I didn’t mean to talk that much, I’m sure that you hear a lot of stories during these types of events. The last thing you need is an extensive rapport about pain management.”

“On the contrary, I love those stories. Besides your enthusiasm shows how much you care about the girl, not only as a patient and how good of a doctor you are,” he gently reassures her and it earns him a soft smile.

They continue to look at each other until the sound of a throat being cleared behind Abby drags them both back to reality. Realising that they’ve probably went over the 5 to 10 minutes he normally takes for each autograph, Marcus is quick to scribble a short message down before closing the book and handing it over.

“It was lovely to have properly met you Doctor Griffin,” he states with a smile.

“You too,” she replies.

When she reaches out to accept the book, their fingers brush and at the sensation her breath hitches in her throat. It’s loud enough that it catches Marcus’ attention, because he looks her into her eyes, his eyes dark and intense.

“Have a great day!” 

“You too,” she retorts and with a final smile she turns around, missing the way Marcus' eyes follows her until she disappears in the crowd.

When Abby finally arrives back at her daughter, Clarke puts on quite the show of looking at her watch.

“Wow. I didn’t know that signing a book took that long,” she teases.

Feeling herself starting to blush, Abby doesn’t even dignify that with an answer, she merely rolls her eyes and starts to push Clarke towards the exit.

“Come on, it’s time for you to pay up.”

* * *

Clarke manages to stay quiet until they’re sitting down, with each a piece of cake and a steaming cup of coffee in front of them.

“So how was he?” She blurts out, eyes wide and curious.

“Who?” Abby asks while wrapping her hands around her cup, letting the warmth seep through.

“Mom,” Clarke scoffs, her voice almost taking on a whiny note.

“Daughter,” she retorts, earning herself another huff. “Before I tell you anything, don’t you think there’s something you need to tell me?”

Clarke rolls her eyes with such a dramatic flair,  that the doctor part of Abby is almost concerned that they’ll stay like that.

“ _Fiiine_. I’m sorry for not telling you what I planned and practically dragging you to the store, but I won’t apologise for planning it,” she resolutely states.

Realising that this is all she’ll get Abby gives a brief nod before taking a sip of coffee.

“Apologies accepted.”

“Well then?” Clarke presses when it becomes clear that her mother isn’t planning on saying anything else.

“Well what?”

“Moom please,” Clarke pouts and now she’s most definitely whining,

“Alright alright,” Abby concedes with a small laugh, “I’ll tell you. It was nothing, but also exactly how I imagined it. His eyes, they’re ...... I don’t know, so much warmer and intense in real life. Pictures really don’t do him justice. And the beard....I had to restrain myself from reaching over and running my fingers through it. It’s so full and peppered with grey and white. Don’t even get me started on his hair. It’s so lush and that curl.  Not to mention his voice - oh, it’s deep and almost rumbly. I know that it shouldn’t have surprised me since I’ve listened to his audiobooks, but to have him actually talk to me, it was just so _real,”_ Abby ends with a soft sigh, her eyes focusing on the Christmas tree which is standing in the middle of the bar.

She’s startled out of her reverie by her daughter bursting out in laughter.

“What’s so funny?”

Clarke’s laughing so hard, tears have gathered in her eyes and her cheeks are turning red.

“You.....Your face. Oh my god, this is even better than I imagined. Do you realise what you just said? You practically waxed poetry over a _beard_. Oh my god, Mom! You have such a crush on Kane. Like I knew that you loved his books and found him attractive - which I might add I can get - but I never realised that you _liked_ liked him. This is the best day _ever_.  Oh wait until I tell this to Lexa. Serves her right for doubting me and my excellent plans,” Clarke happily exclaims while wiping away some tears.

Abby however, is not laughing at all. As a matter of fact she’s pretty aghast.

“Don’t be ridiculous Clarke. I absolutely do not have a crush on Marcus Kane. I barely know him. Do I think that he’s a talented writer? Yes. Do I love his novels. Yes. Do I think that he’s an attractive man? Of course, I’m not blind. But to go as far as saying that I have a crush on him,” she huffs, “Preposterous. Utterly absurd. The fact that you would even think that baffles me. Honestly Clarke, I think you have seen too many movies. I enjoyed meeting him today, but that’s all and I really hope you won’t get any more ideas about arranging us to meet young lady!,” Abby ends while pointing a finger at her daughter, who’s honestly not looking very impressed nor convinced by her explanation.

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” is her reply.

Before her mother can start to make new excuses, Clarke continues, “Can I see what he wrote in the book?”

The question throws her mother off and she closes her mouth, before shaking her head and taking her purse. Ever so gently she removes the book and hands it over.

“Here! Be careful with it, I won’t have it stained with coffee or chocolate,” Abby admonishes and Clarke can barely suppress  a smirk at her mother’s protectiveness of a _book._

“No stains, gotcha!”

Wanting to tease her mother, Clarke opens the book as slowly as possible, before flipping through the first two pages and finding the message. As she reads what Kane wrote down, she can’t help but chuckle.

“Oh my god. That’s smooth. Real smooth. I hoped that you two meeting would go well, but I never expected this. I’m truly such a good wing woman!” Clarke states, sounding very proud of herself.

Abby frowns while reaching over and removing the book from her daughter’s grip. “What do you mean? What did he write?”

“Why don’t you read it for yourself” Clarke replies with a nod towards the book before taking another sip of her coffee.

Feeling rather curious, Abby glances down at the page. While reading the message, a small gasp escapes from between her lips.

 

> _Abby,_
> 
> _Trust me when I say that for the first time I’m actually glad that I agreed to do a book signing. This might sound cliché - since I already made a fool of myself I figured why not continue - but meeting you was the highlight of my day._
> 
> _I’d love for us to meet again so I can prove that I am in fact not always as awkward. So, and I do hope I’m not being too presumptuous, I’m leaving you my number. If you ever feel the need to hear me stammer some more, please do give me a call.  (617 - 203 - 6431)_
> 
> _May we meet again,_
> 
> _Marcus Kane_

Stunned, Abby leans back in her chair, too bewildered to say anything.

“Well?” Clarke starts.

“Hmm?”

“Are you going to call him?” She presses her mother.

“Ooh, I don’t know Clarke,” Abby sighs while taking a sip of coffee.

“You don’t know....” Clarke mutters, throwing her mom an incredulous look. “Why ever not? I thought that you liked meeting him.”

“I did but-“

“And from this message it’s obvious that he _liked_ meeting you too.”

Not entirely convinced, Abby shrugs. “Perhaps he was simply being polite.”

That reply earns her another eye roll, “Polite she says. Mom, trust me. _This_ -“ Clarke starts while gesturing towards the book, “Isn’t being polite. He gave you his number mom. I very much doubt that Kane’s the type of man who casually shares that information. Besides, if leaving such a message is his reaction after a ten minute interaction, imagine how he’ll react when you two spend more time together. Oh this is wonderful. I have to text Octavia and let her know how-,” she says before abruptly falling silent, eyes growing wide when she realises what she has let slip.

“Octavia? As in Octavia Kane, Marcus’ daughter? How in the world do you know her?” Her mother asks, a confused look on her face.

“Well, funny you should ask,” Clarke nervously chuckles, “She texted Lexa who then gave her my number and -“

Abby holds up a hand, effectively silencing her daughter. “Please don’t tell me that you and Octavia got together and planned this? All of it?” She asks, her voice taking on a dangerous tone. A tone Clarke knows all _too_ well. It’s her _you’re about to get shred to pieces_ tone.

“Uhm, yes? Please don’t be mad mom. Think about how much you liked meeting him. And you even got a date,” Clarke stammers, feeling herself starting to sweat at the look in her mother’s eyes. “And look at this cake, such glorious cake. Don’t you just love Oreo cake?” She continues while taking such a large bite out of her piece that she nearly chokes on the chocolate.

The next couple of seconds are filled with the sound of Clarke coughing until that dies down and a tension filled silence falls over the table.

Clarke’s afraid that she’s finally done it. Her mom is going to snap and kill her. She’ll either make it look like an accident or make sure they’ll never find her body. Lexa would probably be all _I told you so_ at her funeral.

“Alright, this is how it’s going to go. You’re going to buy me another coffee and then you’re going to tell me _everything_. Do I make myself clear? I don’t want you to leave out a single detail,”

Clarke vehemently nods. She can’t believe her luck.

“Yes, mom, of course,” she replies before jumping up from her seat and practically sprinting towards the counter.

Abby watches her dash off with a shake of her head.

_That girl._

Even though she’s still pretty annoyed about being set up like that, Abby can’t help but feel better when she takes another look at the message.

_I’d love for us to meet again so I can prove that I am in fact not always as awkward._

With a smile Abby quickly takes out her phone - and after making sure that Clarke can’t see - before adding his number to her contacts. Biting on her lower lip she contemplates for a second if she should already text him or if that would come across as too eager. A look at the time shows her that it’s almost 4.

Should she text now and run the risk that he won’t be able to answer until after the book signing had ended, thus resulting in her panicking for at least 2 hours. Or she could wait until the signing’s done? But that would mean worrying about what to text for over 2 hours.

Abby sighs. She hasn’t felt this nervous about texting someone in....well ever honestly. It’s not like cellphones existed when she and Jake started dating. Taking another glance towards the counter where Clarke is still waiting, Abby opens a new text message and before she can start second guessing, types a short message. Just as she presses send, Clarke settles down with a new cup of coffee.

Putting the phone down, Abby crosses her arms. “So Octavia Kane?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and/or kudos are much appreciated


End file.
